Reckless
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: HELLFIRE #3 More dark nights, candlelight, suspicious marks, forbidden touches...


-Here's another one-shot for you guys! I'm glad you're enjoying this little series so much. It's been a lot of fun to write :) Let me know what you think about this one-

-Reckless-

"You're nervous."

It wasn't a question.

In the dim, dancing candlelight of Minho's bedroom, two boys sat on the navy carpet. One, black-haired and broad-shouldered, was cross-legged in pj bottoms and a white tee. He shivered at the other boy's words and couldn't keep his eyes from straying up and away again. The other boy—more monster than boy, really—had his legs crossed too. Hair like golden, spun sugar shone dark orange in the light and his eyes burned an icy blue. There was the barest glint of teeth in his smile.

Between them, there was a candle, placed on top of a small mirror. There was no sound in the night, besides their quiet voices.

Minho swallowed some of his fear and wiped his palms on his pants. "So, what do I do?" he asked.

"Ah, eager to learn, are we?" Newt asked in return. His voice was like sin, curling the air with is vile smoothness. He pointed at the fat, crimson candle resting on its little mirror. "This is the first step."

"Lighting a candle on a mirror?" Minho asked flatly. What a huge first step.

Newt let out a burst of black laughter. "Someone's sarcastic tonight," he remarked. "I like it."

"Shut up." The tips of Minho's ears burned in embarrassment.

"Not likely." Lips curling upward, Newt winked. Such an action could stop a human's heart with its casual flirtatiousness. He traced the rim of the mirror with a sharp nail. "The second step in creating a Circle is very simple. But, unfortunately, it's rather impossible to do alone. Which is why you have me."

Minho glanced off to the side, as he often did when he was feeling cornered under the intense gazes Newt would pass to him. The word Circle made his skin tingle uneasily. A Circle. A ring of power, drawn out in ink or blood, or carved into walls. Circles were dark, nasty things. If done correctly, this Circle would allow him to summon a demon; with the right symbols, that demon would be Newt. Newt had agreed to teach Minho how to summon him at will. There was just one, tiny catch.

Minho couldn't go around carving Circles into walls all the time. So he was having his Circle drawn onto his skin.

This was gonna suck.

"Okay. Let's do it then." He sat up straighter, trying to appear braver than he felt.

All that bravery melted away when Newt held out one hand. "Give me your arm."

Minho stared first at Newt's hand, slender fingers graceful and inviting, then up at Newt's face. "My arm?" he echoed fearfully.

"That is, I believe, what I said," Newt replied patiently. "Why? Are you having second thoughts?"

"Well, no, it's just..." Absently, Minho rubbed at his arm. "My parents'll see it there. And my friends."

"I could draw it somewhere else, if you wish," Newt offered. He smirked suggestively. "No one would see it on your thigh, or perhaps your hip..."

Flushing madly, Minho stuck his arm out. "Uhh, no. This'll work. I'll explain it somehow." His parents would probably never notice, honestly. They were hardly home and sometimes forgot his own birthday.

"Still so modest," Newt commented, taking Minho's hand and turning it so that the back faced the candle's flame. "When are you going to stop being so guarded with me?"

"When you stop pressuring me for sex every two minutes," Minho deadpanned.

"Darling, soon you'll be begging at my feet."

"You'd like that, huh?"

"Not as much as you."

Minho snorted, a half-smile threatening his lips. Imagine, bantering over this with a demon. He'd done some strange things before, but nothing topped this. Peering down at their joined hands, he cleared his throat nervously. "So, uh...what now?"

"Now? Now, I mark you." Newt said it like it was filthiest thing that could be done to a person. White sleeves rolled up out of the way, he bent over Minho's hand and the candle. A strange, concentrated darkness filled his gaze, changing it to an almost-black blue color. Reaching up with his free hand, he set one, clawed nail at the smooth skin of Minho's inner wrist. Trailing it upward, he halted at a new place, on Minho's forearm. Goosebumps rose in his wake and Minho shifted slightly. "Here, I think," Newt murmured, choosing the unmarked place on Minho's arm, beneath his elbow. "Don't move."

"Will it hurt?" Minho asked in a wave of worry.

Newt didn't look away from Minho's arm. "Only a bit."

"Oh. Great." Minho frowned and was surprised when Newt briefly kissed his wrist.

"Trust me, love," Newt advised with a sly grin. "It won't kill you."

Struck dumb by the affection, Minho nodded. Then Newt, in one slow, deliberate motion, sank his nail into Minho's skin.

It stung like hell. Minho yelped once, jumping. "Hush," Newt cooed, pausing in his work. "I'm not breaking the skin."

"It feels like you are," Minho accused. He gaped at Newt's fingertip in his arm. "It LOOKS like you are!"

"Don't be deceived by demon magic," Newt told him. "It can make you see what you expect to see, and you expect me to hurt you." He shrugged. "I'm not saying I won't, because I am a demon, but right now? You're in no danger."

Minho took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. "Okay. Keep going then."

After a second, Newt did. Carefully, he slid his nail over Minho's skin. The stinging persisted, nagging underneath the skin like biting fangs. Biting his lip, Minho endured it. He had his other hand in a fist at his side as Newt continued. Steadily and surely, the Circle began to appear. It resembled blackest ink etched into Minho's arm, a simple circle with another, smaller one inside. Once this was finished, Newt sketched one last picture into the center of the circles: a small pattern of symbols, unlike any language Minho had ever seen. When it was done, he breathed out a sigh of relief. Then he glanced up at Newt questioningly.

"What's it say?"

"My name. In demon's tongue. And, no, I'm not about to teach you that."

"Fine," Minho huffed. He would've liked to learn Newt's demon name. He examined the marking critically. "What's next?"

"We need a drop of blood," Newt answered, studying his handiwork in satisfaction. His fingers fiddled with the neck of his galaxy-black vest.

Now Minho's heart leaped back up into his throat. "Um," he stammered. "What?"

"Relax," Newt reassured him, waving a hand flippantly. "It needs to be my blood, not yours. Human blood won't do a thing to activate a Circle, unless your demon's blood has been added first." Extending his own arm, he placed his fingernail at his thumb.

Minho watched, faintly queasy, as the tip sank in and a bead of crimson appeared on Newt's thumb. "Are you my demon, then?" he asked quietly.

Not looking up from what he was doing, Newt smiled. "Perhaps."

Snagging Minho's arm again, Newt smoothed his bloody thumb over the Circle. It was now stained dull red. The sensation of blood on his skin made Minho shudder.

"One last step," Newt said, pressing his thumbs together; when they pulled apart, his wound was completely healed. "Look at the candle. The flame. Look until I tell you to stop."

"All right." Fixing his eyes on the candle, Minho sat still. Silence dropped over the room like a stifling blanket. The tiny flame flickered in the dark. He looked at it for so long, his eyes prickled and he had to blink. So long, that the world faded into darkness around him, until all he could see was that flame. So long, that he almost didn't notice that the mirror wasn't the same. Instead of showing the reflection of the candle, it had turned a deep, impenetrable black.

He sure as hell noticed when Newt whispered something. Minho couldn't understand it, but the sound of the words made his blood chill. They slid into the air like bloody writing oozing onto paper; that could only be Demon's Tongue. As soon as the words slipped from Newt's lips, the mirror flashed, burning the symbols of Newt's name into Minho's startled eyes. At the same time, his Circle lit up with a brief, searing pain.

"Ouch!" Minho jerked, scrambling away from the candle. His hand flew to his arm, tentatively probing the marked skin. It burned again, even worse than before. "Ow, dammit!" he swore, gritting his teeth. "What's—?"

He glanced up at Newt, but just as his gaze found the demon, the candle blew out with a puff. They were descended into darkness. Gasping, Minho stiffened. He held his arm carefully and tried not to move in panic. He was horribly aware that, although he...kinda trusted Newt, he was alone, in the dark, with a demon. His stomach churned anxiously. "N—Newt?" he tried.

The voice came from in front of him. "I'm here." There was a snap of fingers and candles, dozens of them that hadn't been there before, flared into life from every corner and desktop of Minho's room.

Relief swamped Minho and he relaxed. "Shuck," he mumbled, examining the Circle, stamped onto his skin like a tattoo. He ran his thumb over it in wonder. "Wow."

"And now you're bound to me," Newt announced. Minho looked up at him sharply and he shrugged with a shoulder. "In a way. You may summon me at any time you please. Just add a drop of blood to the Circle and call me by my name." Plucking up the candle on the mirror, he moved it aside. "I'll hear you from any corner of the universe."

"Is it permanent?" Minho asked.

Newt's indigo irises gleamed. "It will stay as long as you want me," he replied.

"Hmm."

"Why? Were you growing tired of me so soon?"

"What if I was?" Minho asked boldly. Now that the marking was done, he felt gloriously reckless. He could summon Newt whenever he pleased. It gave him some power over the demon.

Newt smiled devilishly. "Then I'd find you, and drag you back to me," he answered softly. Smug and seductive, he ran his thumb along his lower lip, as though remembering the taste of Minho's kisses. "And I'd make you want to stay."

"Really?" Minho asked loftily.

"Really." Newt's steely tone was a challenge.

They stared at each other, across the candlelit room. Minho's gaze wandered over the porcelain skin and lean figure of the demon. He couldn't stand how flawless Newt was, lazily elegant in Minho's room. How could something so wrong look so beautiful? Minho swallowed. There was a tight feeling in his chest and butterflies in his stomach. He didn't want to be involved very much with a demon. But he wanted Newt. That scared him.

Newt took a breath, about to say something, and before he could think, Minho cut him off.

"Can I kiss you?"

The look on Newt's face was truly evil, a wolfish smirk twisting his lips up. "Kiss me?" he repeated, smugness lacing his words. "Do you think it's necessary to ask?"

Minho blushed. "W—well—I mean—"

"Minho."

"What?"

Newt had braced his hands on the floor behind him, leaning back carelessly. A lock of blonde hair dropped across his eyes as he bared his teeth in his grin. "What're you waiting for?"

Minho stared.

Then he was across the floor in a second, leaning over Newt, and their mouths were pressed together hotly. Newt hummed at Minho's eagerness, nipping teasingly at Minho's bottom lip. Minho's mind started spinning, caught up in the dizzying heat of their kiss. He was reckless, running his tongue along Newt's lip and kissing almost roughly. Newt let him. Of course Newt would let him, because it didn't matter if Minho thought he was in control for the moment. Newt could always take that from him.

Minho had one hand planted on the floor, but the other rested itself on Newt's side. Exploring, he slid that hand upward, over Newt's chest, to his shoulder, and then up into his hair. It was like velvet to the touch and he sighed as he ran his fingers through it. Newt bit his lip then and Minho didn't think when he tugged scoldingly on Newt's hair in response. "Careful," Newt breathed against his lips. "You're playing with fire, Minho."

"What're you gonna do?" Minho taunted, pulling at Newt's hair again. The demon's eyes flared. "Punish me?"

A broad, criminal smile quirked Newt's lips. "You've made a mistake now," he purred.

He took Minho by the shoulders and pushed him back onto the floor. Minho gasped as the carpet pressed into his back, trapping him between it and Newt's lean body above him. Stretching himself out languidly over Minho, Newt seared a brief, hard kiss to the human's lips. Minho arched up into it, scrabbling to curl his fingers in the back of Newt's vest. It was over in a second, though, and now Newt was moving his mouth down Minho's neck. He placed a line of kisses down Minho's throat, then back up again. "Newt," Minho whimpered, tipping his head back.

Growling, Newt sank his teeth gently into Minho's skin, before licking over the bite. His satisfied grin curved against Minho's throat as Minho moaned brokenly. "Min, darling," Newt murmured, the nickname gliding off his tongue like honey, "I want to make such a mess of you." His fingertips hooked in the hem of Minho's T-shirt and began to peel it up his body.

Minho sat up, lifting his arms, and Newt tore the shirt from him. A low, pleased sound left the demon's throat at the sight of olive skin and toned muscle. Planting his hands on Minho's shoulders, he shoved Minho back onto the floor again. Minho shivered as the demon traced his fingertips down Minho's body, then lowered his mouth onto Minho's shoulder. Newt kissed over the smooth skin and across the line of Minho's collarbone. "Newt, I need—" Minho broke off because he didn't know what he needed, he only knew he needed more more more. His hands were gripping Newt's hips for an anchor as his head fell back in pleasure. Newt mouthed a burning path across his chest and Minho was groaning before he could stop himself.

"Let me," Newt mumbled into Minho's skin.

Minho didn't have to ask what he meant. "I—I can't," he choked out.

"You can," Newt argued softly. "But you're afraid of belonging to me." He nuzzled into the crook of Minho's neck, breath hot on the sensitive skin. "You're afraid because you want to," he whispered, and Minho mewled into the dark.

"No..."

"Love, just say yes," Newt breathed and the word spilled sweetly from his tongue.

Yes yes yes. Just say yes. Minho inhaled shakily as Newt's hands traveled up his sides. "I—"

"Minho?" The voice wasn't Newt's and it wasn't coming from in his room. It was a sudden and very frightening interruption from out in the stairway. Minho froze. There were footsteps coming up the stairs and his mother's voice echoed off the walls. "Minho? Are you talking to someone?"

"Shit!" Minho hissed, and Newt growled into his neck.

"You humans always interrupt at the worst of times," Newt muttered, eyes glowing indigo a moment before he disappeared; a cloud of blackness engulfed him, resembling ink falling into water, and when it vanished into the air, he had vanished with it. The multitude of candles were snuffed out by invisible breaths of air. The room was left in dim moonlight once more.

Panicked, Minho snatched his shirt off the floor and clambered to his feet. Hurriedly, he practically threw himself onto his bed and grabbed at the covers. He didn't have any time to get his shirt back on, so he yanked the sheets up as he sat back against a pillow. As soon as he had the blanket up to his stomach, his mother's silhouette appeared in his doorway. He couldn't see her well in the darkness; she was nothing but a mass of curling, ebony hair and eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight. "...Min?"

"I'm fine, Mom," he told her, ignoring the shake in his voice. "I must've been..." He raked his mind for an excuse. "...sleep-talking, or something."

"Sleep-talking?" Mrs. Park repeated. "You've never done that before."

"Yeah, well." Minho swallowed, praying that she wouldn't turn on the light and see him disheveled and shirtless. With a tattoo of a Circle on his arm.

"Hmm..." Mrs. Park seemed to be pondering this.

Minho was about to reassure her again, but then he jerked as a touch appeared on his arm; Newt had returned, sitting next to Minho with their shoulders pressed together. Minho shot him a glare and Newt grinned mischievously in reply.

"Well. All right then." Mrs. Park turned, her profile now visible in the doorway. It seemed as though she might leave, but then she paused. "How...how was your day?" she asked hopefully. She always tried to make up for missing Minho's life by asking about it.

Now was not the time. "Good," he answered cautiously. Newt was skimming a fingertip down his arm, lightly scratching the skin with his nail. Minho tried to breathe evenly.

"That's good then. What happened?"

"Nothing really. Mom, I'm trying to sleep." Minho grabbed Newt's hand when he tried to sneak it up Minho's inner thigh. Newt muttered something quietly in indignation.

"Yes, you're right, I'm sorry," she replied, waving a hand. "I shouldn't keep you up like this. Just...well...I love you." The guilt in her words made Minho feel bad for dismissing her like this. But he had to.

"Love you too."

"All right, honey. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"O—okay," Minho stammered. Newt kissed his shoulder, then ran his tongue up the side of Minho's neck. Curling his fingers in the sheets, Minho prayed that he wouldn't make a sound in front of his mother.

After an agonizing minute, Mrs. Park turned away and left. Her heels clicked down the hallway to her room. Minho waited until he heard the door shut before he pushed Newt in the shoulder. "Bastard."

A gleeful bark of laughter came from the blonde and he dropped his head onto Minho's shoulder. "You're adorable when you're angry," he replied, unbothered.

"And you're annoying when you're arrogant," Minho flashed back, crossing his arms.

"Arrogant looks great on me, but just wait." Newt nosed Minho's shoulder and nipped once at the skin. "You haven't seen me possessive yet."

"You don't call what you did earlier possessive?"

"I call that giving you what you want."

Minho snorted and Newt reached up to touch his cheek. Turning Minho to face him, Newt cradled the human's jaw. His thumb caressed Minho's cheek. "Don't act as though you don't want what I can give you," he murmured.

Minho just looked at him for a long moment. Someone needed to knock the snarky demon down a peg or two. Leaning closer, Minho rested their foreheads together. "And don't act like you don't want me." He let his hand drop to Newt's thigh, splaying his fingers across the fabric of his slacks.

It was unbelievably satisfying to see Newt's smirk fall right off his face and hear the little noise he made. Seeing the triumph on Minho's face, Newt bared his fangs, frustrated at his own lack of control. "Damn you, Minho Park," he muttered, his hold tightening just a bit on Minho's jaw. "You'll be the death of me."

When he disappeared again, a few minutes later, Minho found that instead of feeling uneasy, he was smiling.

There was something strangely liberating about knowing you held such power over a demon.

Now he just had to figure out how to hide this Circle.


End file.
